


Knight Anew

by Chatika (salamanderssmile)



Series: In fide aeternam [2]
Category: Dark Souls (Video Games)
Genre: Lowkey-Highkey Gay, M/M, Pre-Relationship, That's it., gold - Freeform, lots of, you'll get what i mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 13:01:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11647086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salamanderssmile/pseuds/Chatika
Summary: To be the personal knight of a member of the royal family of Anor Londo, one has to be accepted by Lord Gwyn himself. To stand before him and be judged, and found worthy.





	Knight Anew

**Author's Note:**

> my boy going places.
> 
> ornstein and anxiety 1v1 who will win?

Ornstein awoke to the stone ceiling of his officer’s room in the barracks. He felt anxious and excited in a maddening convolution. It was morning already, he knew - from the rays slowly flooding in through the high, small window on the wall his cot was set against. His ribs felt as though they were trying to constrict his heart out of his chest. With a deep breath, Ornstein threw his legs over the side of the cot, feet on the cold stone. Should he strain his ears to hear it, the noises of the barracks waking were growing, he knew. Soon, the Silver Knights would be ready for yet another day of training, be it themselves or squires. Hadn't his second in command mentioned, the night prior, a young boy soon to be put under their battalion’s banner? He felt his lips pull up ever so slightly in a smirk, thinking of his closest subordinates. They had been oh, so very worried, sitting hunched around a table in the common room of the barracks. They were so tense when he walked in, still dazed and breathless from his meeting with Lord Gwyn’s eldest, that one had jumped up and off the bench at the sound of his footsteps. At seeing him, unscathed, they crowded him, uncomfortably close and looming over his head. “Whatsoever happened to thee, thou must tell us, commander,” his second in command, Elena, had demanded. She had been the only one to stand back, arms crossed and eyes suspicious, though she smiled. They had looked at him as if he had brought them an ember from the First Flame itself as he told them why His Grace had summoned him. 

And now, he was to be summoned again. _“Come morrow, I shall call for thee again”_. The Prince’s voice echoed in his head as his heart hammered in his chest. To serve a Lord… Ornstein didn't know what to think of it, tangles of half-completed thoughts crawling over each other as he rose from his cot. He dressed in automatic movements, donning his armor without thinking much of it. His helmet was still to be fixed, and so his face was bare, long scars running across it. Ornstein didn't like them, deep and angry as they were, unavoidable as centerpiece of his face. He sighed, face giving just a hint of annoyance to an onlooker as he picked up his greatsword, still in its sheath. He sat down on his cot again, leaning against the sword, upright between his legs, tip firm on the floor. He was wondering how long until the Prince summoned him when someone knocked on his door. Tap, tap, tap, in a dry staccato, prompting him to stand again. Ornstein opened his door to a human with a solemn expression who bowed before him.

“Sir Ornstein, Knight of the Prince of Sunlight, thy liege summoneth thee to be seen by His Lordship.” They did not look Ornstein in the eye; barely looked at him at all.

“Where doth he await for me?” He asked with a dry throat, the weight of lead in his stomach, after a moment of heavy silence where the human simply stood there.

“If it is thine wish, I can guide thee.” They answered, looking at the ground.

“It so is.” Ornstein said, and the human once again bowed, and gestured with an arm to follow them out the door. The knight walked by the human’s side as they were stared at by every Silver Knight awake to see them cross the barracks. The little one had fast strides to compensate for the shorter legs as they guided him through the rooms of the Cathedral. The windows, covering entire walls from floor to ceiling, bathed everything in the warm glow of sunlight, turning the marble floors and pillars gold. Every step through the royal residence had his chest constricting further. The splendor, if nothing else, was enough to hammer it into his head: he was treading upon deific ground. Memories of a childhood past sprung into his mind, of staring up at the Cathedral from his family’s home, down below. It was really as grand as he had imagined it to be, all those years ago. Ornstein realized then, that he never truly expected to be invited into it, though he often hoped he would. He thought of Faraam as a boy, running on stubby legs in those halls - had he, too, when younger, wondered whether he'd be remembered by history, or was that simply a fact for him, royal Prince, Gwyn’s eldest born? It was an odd concept in and of itself for Ornstein, thinking of a Lord being forgotten, especially one as grand as a member of the royal family. After all, they needn't great feats to be legend, they were brought into the world already as such.

The human paused in their stride, bowing slightly as they spoke. “Sir, His Grace is right ahead. Thou mayst approach him unannounced, as he alloweth it for thee.” Ornstein followed with his gaze where they pointed, seeing a figure standing tall in unmistakably royal garments by a pillar in the hall.

“Very well. I am thankful for thine assistance.” The knight said, still looking at the Prince.

“I am honored to have helped thee, Sir.” The human replied, solemn enough to have him looking at them again as they bowed deeply, making no other movement to imply they were leaving.

“Thou art dismissed, then.” He told them, and they walked backwards still half bowed until they were several feet away, when they finally straightened their back and turned around. Ornstein raised an eyebrow at the behavior, wondering if all human servants in the Cathedral were like that. The sound of movement from the opposite end of the hall to the human cut his line of thought as he turned to look at the Prince once more. He had walked down to the middle of the hall, and stood there, posture proud, arms crossed. The rays of sunlight lent him a softness Ornstein had never thought to associate with a god of War, of all things. His platinum hair looked like threads of polished gold. The Prince of Sunlight, indeed, in all his Lordly splendor, grand enough to have the knight’s heart tight in his chest.

Ornstein walked up to him, bowing at the waist, hand upon his heart. “Your Grace,” he greeted, “I hope thou art well.”

“Sir Ornstein.” The Firstborn said with a nod once the knight had righted himself. “I  _ am _ well. More than likely faring better than thee. I have, after all, much more experience in dealing with the Lord, my father, than thou.”

His smile told of no seriousness, but Ornstein looked to the side, an eyebrow raised, before looking at him again. “Thou think’st it a jest, Your Grace, yet thine assumptions are correct. I cannot lie and say meeting thy sire, His Lordship, is unremarkable.” He left unsaid that Faraam's presence, somehow, instilled a certain sense of peace in him, enough to lighten the weight on his chest at the thought of meeting the Lord of Sunlight himself.

Faraam shook his head with a chuckle at that. “I will not tell thee not to worry, but I shall assure thee, regardless of the Lord, my father’s verdict, thou shalt always have mine admiration.”

Ornstein’s chest swelled with pride, and even his brow softened as he nodded deeply. “That alone is more than enough honor for me.”

Faraam smiled at him, laying his right hand heavy on the knight’s shoulder. “Then come’st, follow’st thou me.”

The Prince lead him, hand still on his shoulder, through the hall, to stand before enormous and golden double doors that spoke of magnificence and poise. Ornstein looked up at them, impressed, though even the man at his side wouldn't guess that by the impassive expression on his face.

“Afore we stand in front of my father, I should ask of thee to kneel, and not look at him in the eye, least he asketh thee to.” Faraam rolled his eyes. “The required, pompous formality.”

Ornstein nodded in acknowledgement at the Prince, acutely aware of the hand on his shoulder, unknowing if it was a source of comfort or its opposite. Faraam nodded back, at last taking his hand away, and the doors slid open at his command. Ornstein wondered, as they slowly revealed the room beyond them, where the mechanism controlling them was, and who was the person, so attentive, manning them.

Then the throne room was revealed, and Faraam walked in with the confidence of royalty as Ornstein followed two steps behind him. The drapes on the windows, the knight noticed, were translucent and woven with gold thread. He might have stopped to admire them if Faraam had not climbed up the steps to the throne, path Ornstein was certain he could not follow. So he kneeled in front of them, both fists on the floor, and head bent low. He thought of praying, and almost laughed - to whom? The men right in front of him? Yet there was no other name for the string of thoughts he attempted to somehow convey to the Prince. All sounds of movement stopped, and Ornstein assumed Faraam had reached His Lordship’s throne. Silence hung heavy for what seemed to be an eternity to the kneeling knight.

“Then, thou art the knight the Prince wisheth served him?” The Lord of Sunlight, Gwyn himself, spoke, and his voice was as imperious and all-consuming as thunder, resounding its way to Ornstein’s very core.

“Yes, His Lordship.” His chest felt so constricted he didn't know if he could breathe, but he raised his voice as best he could.

“Hmm…” The Lord of Sunlight hummed. “He sayeth thou’st slain a dragon by thyself. Would that happen to be true, Silver Knight?”

Ornstein swallowed thickly, and did his best to take a deep breath. If not for himself, he owed it to His Grace, to answer the Lord of Sunlight. “Yes. He indeed witnessed as I killed a dragon, though I am proud to admit ‘twas not my first.”

“Art thou, now? And,” Gwyn started. “I am lead to believe thou and the Prince sparred recently? Which lead to thee breaking my son’s nose?”

“Yes, His Lordship.” Ornstein answered through his teeth, stomach clenching and throat closing as he tried not to think at all.

“He is skilled, Lord, my father, a commander amongst thy knights.” Faraam’s voice was almost comforting to hear, so much more familiar than his father’s. “I would not have taken notice of him otherwise.”

“I am certain thou wouldst not.” For a second, Ornstein could have sworn the Lord of Sunlight’s tone had been sarcastic. “I have asked nothing of thee but confirmations ‘till now, Silver Knight. Answer’st me, then, when I ask wherefore thou desirest serve the Prince of Sunlight.”

It was not a question, Ornstein knew, felt it in his bones; it was a  _ demand _ for an answer the Lord did not have. Yet, it was also an answer Ornstein knew not how to give, if he had it to be given at all to begin with. He knew not  _ why _ he had accepted the Prince’s request in the previous day, simply that his faith lay with the decision. Lay with Faraam. And perhaps it was foolish of him, to believe so deeply in someone he barely knew, but--

“Answer’st me, Knight. Look’st thou into mine eyes and answer’st me.”

Even the Lord of Sunlight himself was not as much a Lord as his son, in Ornstein’s eyes. He met Gwyn’s gaze with certainty borne of faith, uncoiling his ribs. He breathed truly unrestricted for the first time in what seemed like days; may as well had been days. Without hesitance or dread, Ornstein spoke.

“For I have never known faith stronger than the one I give him.” Was his answer, in a tone so final the Lord of Sunlight raised an eyebrow. By his side, Faraam looked, for lack of better words, awed. Ornstein’s stomach clenched in excitement as he met the Prince’s gaze for a split second.

“I see.” The Lord of Sunlight proclaimed as Ornstein looked at the floor once more. “I have made my decision.” With those words, he stood up from his throne, standing imperious, enormous even by his son’s side. “Stand’st thou on thy feet, Knight, to kneel afore me on these steps.”

Ornstein took a deep breath before rising to a standing position. As he climbed the steps one by one, he noticed that if Faraam towered over him, Gwyn dwarfed him; standing a step beneath him, his gaze barely met the Lord’s chest. He kneeled once more, having no option but to look at Gwyn’s feet.

“Say’st thy name for I to hear, Knight.” The Lord of Sunlight demanded, and his voice rumbled loud and decisive through the room.

“I am Ornstein, His Lordship.”

“Sir Ornstein, knight of my regiments, commander amongst thy fellow soldiers.” He unsheathed the sword at his waist, and a shiver of dread and excitement ran down Ornstein’s spine. That was it, the be all, end all. “My son hath praised thee afore me, and though he is thine only witness, thou hast proven his faith in thee is returned tenfold.” His Lordship touched each of Ornstein’s shoulders with the tip of the sword, and then the top of his head, metal awfully close to the redhead’s neck. “Thou mayst rise, now, then, as a knight of Gwynsen, Prince of Sunlight, god of War.”

And rise he did, unfolding from his kneeling position to stand as proud as he felt. He could not easily describe his emotions if asked. He was elated and a myriad of other feelings for which he didn't even know there was a name. His lips curled up in one of his characteristics minuscule smiles as he bowed before the Lord of Sunlight.

“I am deeply grateful for thine acceptance, His Lordship. It is a great honor.” Ornstein said, voice clear as the air around them.

“I hope thou serve’st my son well, Sir Ornstein. Thou mayst take thy leave, now.” The Lord of Sunlight answered simply, once again sitting on his throne.

Ornstein bowed once again, deeply bending at the waist, before turning around to leave. Behind him, he heard Faraam’s voice utter his own thanks to his father. Ornstein was already walking down the hall when he heard the doors slam shut, and a heavy hand came to rest on his shoulder, turning him around. Before he knew any better, he was enveloped in the Prince’s arms as Faraam hugged him. Ornstein was uncertain as to how he should react, as embracing the Heir of Sunlight sounded much more awkward than being embraced by him. Especially when one stood only at the god’s shoulders’ height. He didn't know if he was even allowed to hug him back. Fortunately for him, Faraam took a step back, hands simply resting on Ornstein’s shoulders. The Prince smiled widely, and the rays of sunlight made him look radiant. From so close, even his eyelashes looked like spun gold to Ornstein - though his eyes, the knight noticed, were closer to gray than blue.

“I am… _blissful_ , for he hath ordained thee.” His smile grew even wider, something Ornstein would normally not think possible, yet it seemed simply a given when it came to His Grace. His liege. “My knight… Though we barely know one another, I cannot fathom one more deserving of such position, or more fitting.” 

“The honor is mine to even have the opportunity to serve thee, personally, Your Grace.” Ornstein said, smiling with a hint of teeth. Faraam’s own smile grew crooked in what would be fondness, had they known each other better.

“Thou art truly one of a kind, Sir Ornstein.”

“I shall take that as a compliment, Your Grace.” Ornstein replied, head tilted to the side so that the Prince knew he was not being serious.

“As thou shouldst!” Faraam exclaimed with a small shrug, taking his hands from the smaller man’s shoulders. “And as befiteth thee, _my knight_ , I bequeath thee my favor.”

From somewhere in his robes, the Prince produced what looked like a long, folded strip of cloth, holding it out towards Ornstein, who noticed it was not a strip of cloth, but a plume. It was easily half as long as Ornstein was tall, and its color was a deep blood red. Stunned, he reverently lifted a hand to touch it, as it could not possibly be real. A gift from a god, to him, and a favor, nonetheless. It left him breathless as his hands took it from Faraam’s as delicately as they could.

“So that all may know thee as the knight of the Prince of Sunlight.” Faraam said, quietly, almost a whisper. 

Still stunned, Ornstein blinked rapidly, raising his gaze to look Faraam in the eyes. “Your Grace, I… I--”

“Need’st say nothing.” The Prince told him, eyes locked to his.

“I am grateful to thee.” Ornstein replied, still wide eyed.

“And I to thee.” And it was fondness in Faraam’s eyes, undeniably. “If thou so wish’st, thou mayst rest for the day.”

“Your Grace?” The knight frowned ever so slightly in confusion.

“Tomorrow, thou and I begin training together.” Faraam said with certainty and authority. It was not even a demand, but a fact already. “We shall devise a way to fight this war like none other. We shall become legendary. Dragonslayers.”

It was almost childish, the way he said it, and Faraam knew it, if his chuckling meant anything. Still, looking at him, crooked smile bathed in golden sunlight, Ornstein couldn't help but smile back. Because he believed in this Lord, who was larger than life, and greater than any other in his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> player 3 joined the game: gayness! it absolutely smashes the competition.


End file.
